Slow Kicks
by cssypet
Summary: Ariadne has fallen for Arthur. And in a world where love will either drive you mad or leave you as a Shade trapped in memories, this is extremely dangerous. But Ariadne can't help it. Maybe no one can. And maybe no one can save her.
1. Chapter 1

**Kicking Slowly**

**A/N: Hello, peoples (and this is a word)!I have recently watched Inception, stayed up all night writing in my notebook, and this is the result. A/A love! Whoooo! My goal is to make a 35 chapter fanfic, so support me! And without furthur ado: Slow Kicks! More at the bottom!**

**Soundtrack: Center of Attention- Jackson Waters**

** 'Love hurts whether it's right or wrong.' - Avril Lavigne**

**Chapter One: Friends at Cobol**

She can feel Arthur's lips tracing patterns along her cold skin. His fingers as he plays with her own. His smile. She can see it all, feel it all. Can smell the briny and salty smell of the ocean, the feel of the wood beneath her bare feet and the bite of Arthur's cold zipper on his leather jacket. The lurch of the ship and the laughter of other passengers. Arthur's arms wrapped around her. She revels in it all, accepting it in stride. Arthur whispers something into her hair, and she turns her head. "Hmmm?" she murmurs, and he plays with her scarf.

She digs her hand into her pocket for her bishop, and places it onto the rail. She pushes it with a finger. "I said-" he starts.

It doesn't fall.

And then she's in a hotel room, a wipsy green dress fluttering around her figure, a scarf dangling from her fingertips, and a cigerette in her other hand. A gun is under her dress, and she can feel it press into her skin. Arthur enters the room, brandishing a gun, and she slides her own out. They observe each other from behind the barrel, each wearing a poker face. He cocks his head. "Would you shoot me?" he asks with all the indifference of a person who didn't care. "I thought you loved me."

"I did. But that was the past."

"Do you know what it is to be a lover? To be half of a whole?"

She falters as he repeats Mal's words. Then he pulls the trigger. She gasps and slides to the floor as he catches her body and kisses her fluttering eyelids. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and hisses out words he has to strain to hear.

"I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

Then he slides her eyelids shut.

Then they're in the lobby. Projections -she remembers it- are staring them, and she's getting nervous. This means something bad, she's sure. Only she can't remember what. "Quick, give me a kiss," he mutters. She leans in and he leans in, and it's the briefest moment of skin brushing against skin, a tingle rushing through her fingertips and the urge to wrap herself around this perfect man. But then he breaks away, and she has to bring things back to reality. "They're still looking at us," she murmurs. He smiles at her. "Well, it was worth a shot."

She smiles back.

A riot scene. Is it? A crowd of people, mixing violently and her arms held back. She can hear Cobb shouting, screaming something. Then a woman comes through the crowd, and they part for her like Moses parting the Red Sea. Something silver and huge glints in her hand, and Ariadne panics. "Wake me up! Cobb, wake me-"

Something is thrust into her stomach and the pain consumes Ariadne. Then her eyes are open and Arthur's fingers are moving at her wrists, pulling out the needle.

Then her eyes are really open, and she stares at her ceiling. Dreams of Arthur. Always of Arthur. She wades through her blankets and slips on her fuzzy red slippers and stretches, listening for the pop! of her muscles. Then she stands and contemplates the bishop on her dresser. _A dream,_she thinks,_if this was a dream, then Arthur will burst through this door and wrap me in his arms. Only I have the look to this door, and he will come in. _But he doesn't, and, still uncertain, Ariadne tips the totem over with two fingers. It topples, the small whisper of wind fluttering the sheets of fresh papers and designs that rest there. She sighs with relief and regret. Relief because the sunlight that dances on her skin is real; regret because she's only ever had _one_ kiss with Arthur, and she wants more. A lot more. So many hugs and kisses that she won't be able to count them on all her fingers and toes and bodily limbs.

She plucks a scarf (green, with blue and red polka dots) a set of clothes, and a hairband from her dresser and walks into the bathroom. She stares at the tangled mess she calls her hair, and, a bit resigned, she begins to comb it through. She brushes her teeth. Then she undresses and hops into the shower.

**One day ago**

He's at the conveince store when he gets the call. He glances at the caller ID before flipping open the phone and putting it to his ear. "It's me." He looks around the store before putting the phone to his ear again.

"Arthur, do you see a tail? Have you been out today?"

Arthur looks around again and spies a man lurking in the corner. Once he makes eye contact, the man looks instantly at the pack of twizzlers he's holding. "Yes, I see a tail. And I've been to the dry cleaner's, too." There's a scuffle at the other end of the phone: someone vainly trying to access the phone, and Eames holding them off. "I'm at Cobb's house. Get to Ariandne. She might have a tail as 's already at the warehouse. I'll meet you there, at the University. Tommorow's Monday, right? She'll be at the University?" Arthur checks his things out and makes his way to his car before answering. He's also trying to ignore the stirring in his gut.

"Yeah. We'll go there. They might try to get her there."

" 'Kay, mate. See ya there. Oh, and by the way, Cobb's not coming. He has to protect his children-" There's yelling, and a little girl is talking into Arthur's ear. "Hello, Uncle Arthur. Uncle Eames told me that you and Auntie Ari have been-" Phillipa pauses to giggle, "kissing. Is that true?" Arthur glances at the phone. "May I speak to Uncle Eames please?" he mutters. Had Eames been spying on them in the hotel? "No. Uncle Eames is begging me not to give you the phone."

Arthur unlocks the Toyota and enters, setting his things on the seat next to him and starting the car. "Well, I'll speak to him later. Uncle Arthur is driving now, so I have to go. You and James be good, okay? Let's try not to give daddy a heart attack." The girl voices her assent and Arthur hangs up and peels out of the parking lot.

**Present **

What she has for Arthur isn't obsession, she decides on the way to the University. Not obsession. Affection? Quite possibly. But it feels so much more then that. Endearment? Gratitude?

She thinks of Arthur then- his beautiful chisled features, his slicked back hair, and his dark eyes that can see straight into her soul. She pulls open the door to the University, once again cursing at how heavy it is, and it's like a dream. Everything happens so fast.

She's inside and heading to the staircase. She's just about to put her hand on the smooth marble handrail when gunshots ring out. Everyone starts screaming at once and drop to the floor, covering their heads and cowering against the dusty floor. Except not Ariadne. She just stands there, in complete and utter shock, a familiar tingle rushing to her fingertips. She has her totem in her hand now-when did she reach for it?- and pushes it over in the University floor with more force then nessecary. It falls, and she snatches it back up and pushes it over again. Her hands are shaking, she realizes.

More gunshots -one striking a marble statue by the staircase- and another student yells at Ariadne to get down. She does so, still shaking. She can't breathe, and she's developing tunnel vision. It was Arthur she saw rushing past her, she's sure of it. Complete with his leather jacket and breifcase. She's sure of it, absolutely positive- it was him. The rush in her fingertips confirms it.

People are shouting some more, screaming and Ariadne sees Arthur again, dissapearing into the shadows behind a statue. Chaos is errupting. A security gaurd arrives and is instantly ambushed.

There's another gunshot, and police sirens wail closer and closer to the University. The light fixture above a clump of students shatters. A hoarse voice shouts something. She sees a man lurking on the other side of the staircase, and he's holding a gun. She loses all sense of feeling when he levels it to her head. His finger is pressing into the trigger-

-Right before someone shoves her out of the way and she careens backwards. Her head collides with the wall, and her savior answers the gun man with shots of his own. Her eyes are shut tight. She smells him before she opens her eyes. The smell of expensive wine and cigerettes, the smell of leather and hair gel. The smell of perfection. The smell of Arthur. And when she opens her eyes, it _is_ him.

"Arthur?" She can barely murmur the words, and all the dreams come rushing back- the boat. The hotel room (the one she can't even understand), and the gentle pressure of his lips on her eyelids. Mal, and her huge knife, and waking up to Arthur's gentle presence. And many more dreams. Many, many more dreams. With countless kisses and hugs, and guns and knives, and Arthur's reassuring voice. But her dream- Arthur can never compare to _this_ Arthur, the real one with a real smell that she's only been so close to smell _one_ other time. Arthur. His names sounds like heaven on her lips.

"Are you okay?" His dark eyes flit around the lobby of the University once before focusing on her. She nods mutely. "Good. Your tail from Cobol Engineering doesn't want you to be."

She finds breath for a few words. _And_ she's hyper-aware of how close he is. A miracle she's able to talk.

"Cobol Egineering?"

He shifts, moving from her and a muscle in his jaw twitching like mad. He nods crisply and pulls her with him, heading to the back. Ariadne spots someone, a tall dark shadow. Their movement isn't noticed because now everyone is dashing for the exits in what can only be described as 'a mad frenzy'. All Ariadne can think about is the soft and gentle pressure of his hands on her own. Maybe that's what he's thinking about, too. And maybe unicorns will fly over her head. Because Ariadne is willing to bet her tution money that the immaculate point man wouldn't be thinking about kisses. Not in a critical moment like this.

The tall shadow is Eames. He sees her the moment she recognizes it's him, and he tosses her a strained grin. "Hello, love. I'd duck if I were you."

She obeys without a single doubt as both Arthur and Eames return fire. She hears Eames mutter an oath as a bullet richoets off a wall near them. Arthur begins to pull her to the back door while Eames remains and shoots at the gun man. He finally answers her question.

"Cobol Engineering hired Cobb and I to preform an Extraction on Saito. But he found us out, and they don't accept failure, as we've learned. Our last Architect was thrown off a roof."

Ariadne shivers. "But I wasn't there for the Extraction. Why are they following me? And apparently trying to shoot me?" Arthur glances at her for a second, but doesn't answer. Her stomach plunges into her feet and then rises into her throat when Arthur and she reach outside. "Get into the blue Honda civic. Eames'll accompany you." She feels a pang of sadness: their reunion was possibly at least seven minutes long. "Aren't you coming?"

He gives her a smile that speaks volumes, and heat courses through her face as she steps into the car.

"I have things to take care of and people to meet."

This is possibly the vaugest thing Ariadne has ever heard, and she won't accept it. "But-"

Eames is in the car then and hurridley telling the driver to speed away. "Keep your head down," he advises. She does so, watching Arthur's form dissapear furthur and furthur from the car. She wants to reach for the bishop and check if this is reality, but when she puts her hand in her pocket it's not there. She searches her other pocker, and all possible places it might be, but it's not there: anywhere. A blossom of dread bursts inside her chest, and she starts to feel around Eames, searching for his totem.

"Whoa, there, mate, we have plenty of time at the warehouse-"

"No, you pervert," she snaps, "do you have your totem? Can you-?" He gives her a _look_, lazily reaching into his suit pocket and pulls out a poker chip. He spins it on the car armrest, and it falls. She breathes a sigh of relief. "What happened to yours?" She takes in a deep breath, preparing herself for the scolding she's sure to get. "I left it at the University when I saw Arthur."

He cocks an arrogant eyebrow (if eyebrows can be arrogant, but in this case it certainly _looks_ it). "What, you've been dreaming of us, love? Can't say I'm surprised- I am a rather dashing fellow." She looks out the window and doesn't answer as she hears him mutter, "Just Arthur then. Bloody-"

She does have dreams of Eames, but only as he drags Arthur's lifeless body from an otherwise empty hotel room. And after watching _The Hangover_, a tiger who ate babies. But still, the way Eames has said it makes Ariadne shiver.

"What makes you think I dream of Arthur? Or you guys?" she demands. Eames chuckles, amused, but Ariadne is not. He never does answer her question.

**.Somewhere else. +*+*+**

**"**You said a possible job."

"And an escape from your friends at Cobol."

"Eames and I don't need help."

"But...this one might?"

The aged buisness tycoon flashes a picture of Ariadne at Arthur, and he reflexivley tightens a fist. "I can protect her too," he insists, and the man gives him a pitying look. It's a look Arthur doesn't get often, and he glares, trying oh-so-desperatly to ignore the stirring in his gut at the mere mention of Ariadne. "You can't hide from Cobol forever. If you do the job correctly, then I can offer you a reprieve," he points out.

"But what you're asking us to do is ridicolous!" says Arthur, refraining from slamming a fist on the table. Arthur grinds his teeth, thinking. "We can do them at different times, even though that has a risk as well," he says slowly. The tycoon puts the picture down and Arthur has to stop himself from snatching it back up again. _Just to study her face, _he tells himself. He's ripped from his thoughts as the buisness man speaks again.

"It's quite simple, Arthur. Like eating cereal and watching TV at the same time. A person of your caliber can do that, correct?"

_This is absolutly twisted, _Arthur thinks. _To perform an Extraction and Inception at the same time. Is this even possible? _ He grinds his teeth, thinking. "It depends on who the target is," Arthur admits. The buisness tycoon grins, showings a mouth full of clean and perfect teeth. "Adam Turnser is your Mark. Heir to a bottled water company. I want you to-" here he leans across the desk and slids a manila folder bursting with papers to Arthur, "Incept the idea that he'll retire early off his killings and leave the company to his stupid daughter, Makla, and to Extract whether or not he's planning a new kind of bottle. What does it do? What does it look like?"

Arthur picks up the folder and begins to flip through it.

"Everything's in there, son. Photos, birth certificates, even where he went to the dentist as a child."

Arthur closes the folder and looks up at the buisness man. "I'll be in contact. To let you know if we'll do it. And when." He stands and leaves the University office that the buisness man has rented. The man is twiddling his fingers as Arthur shuts the door. He makes his way through a mass of hysterical people and police officers, and spies a golden bishop by a potted plant. Ariadne's totem.

He picks it up and stares at it. Then he pockets it and continues outside to his car.

The warehouse is exactly as Ariadne remembers it. The lawn chairs set apart from one another, and the tables. The only things that are missing are Cobb, Arthur, and his PASIV device. Even Yusuf is here, cheerfully mixing compounds and other unrecognizable things to Ariadne's eyes. He grins at her when she enters. "Take a seat on over there, mate. We're gonna be here a while," Eames says. She does, perching on the edge of a lawn chair and staying far away from Yusuf and his...chemicals. She has a million questions, but one is the most dominant. "Why am I here? I mean...why was that guy shooting at me?"

Eames pauses in unwrapping his sandwhich. "A tail from Cobol was shooting at you. The same tail was shooting at you. We had a tail too- Arthur, Yusuf, and I. But they were only watching us. They weren't shooting..." he trails off, then starts again. "So we're basically hiding here." He catches sight of Ariadne's face and hurridely starts again. "Don't worry, you can still go to your classes and stuff. And you might not be bored out of your mind. Arthur says he's looking into a job offer."

Ariadne nods just as Arthur enters the warehouse, brandishing a manila folder.

**A/N: Please review, this took me like...forever and a weekend to write. In fact, my fingers hurt. A lot. Don't let my finger pain go to waste! And if they seem off character, sorry. I've only watched Inception three times... Must get onto furthur studying... A/A love! Whoooo!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Hello, peoples! And since I always, always forget, here's for all the chapters: I don't own Inception. I probably never will. But I can love it, so there. A/A love! I dream about these two at night. And I know what you're thinking: no one ever said I was NOT crazy. Okay, enough of me. And thanks to PurplePlatypus96 for being my first reveiwer! Thanks to ALL of my reviewers, you made my day. I think I nearly died. Okay, NOW enough of me. **

**Soundtrack: Sweet dreams- Beyonce**

**'Every night I rush to bed, with hopes that maybe I'll get a chance to see you.' - Beyonce**

**Chapter Two: Dreamers Will Always Dream**

It sounds crazy. Ariadne had thought it impossible, but now she's not so sure.

_To perform an Inception and an Extraction at the same time._ She hisses it to herself like a mantra. She's falling asleep in the dim warehouse. Before she does, she sees Arthur at his desk, flipping through the manila folder.

It all feels real, so very, very real.

The gun pressed to her temple is cold. The cigerette held between two fingers feels there, the circular shape rolling between bright red fingernails. The carpet on the hotel floor is extremely lush, she notes, and my knees are sinking into it. The gun under my dress is biting into my skin. And that certainly looks like Arthur is checking the safety of his gun. The moment he removes the gun from her temple, Ariadne whips out her own. Once again they are contemplating each other over the barrels of their guns. Ariadne checks her own safety on her gun. It's on, but Ariadne is a damn good bluffer and Arthur doesn't know it's on. So and so.

He puts his gun down first, sliding it to the hotel room door and watching her carefully. _Aha,_she thinks, _this is the catch. I may shoot or do the same._ She thinks of the gun pressed to her temple earlier, then the haunted look in Arthur's eyes. She sighs and puts the gun down on the bed.

It's then he wraps her in his arms and kissing the tender spot behind her ear. She melts like silly putty (_Damn you, couldn't you be less hot_?). Skin brushing skin, lips brushing even softer lips, and his fingers playing with her silky green scarf. It feels like heaven, and her fingers are studying every contour of his face. Murmuring "I love you" into his neck, and hearing him say the same. She has shivers, and she can't breathe for a second when he stops kissing her. Then he kisses each and every one of her fingers before kissing her collarbone, then her neck. This is her heaven, and she honestly wouldn't mind dropping into hell. As long as Arthur comes with her.

That's before an armed gun man burst into the room and fires off three shots. Arthur screams bloody murder before dropping to the floor. Ariadne would have caught him, but she has her second gun out in miliseconds, but the attacker is faster and she's engulfed in flames of pain. Next thing she knows, she on the floor next to Arthur and he is holding her hand. She feels comforted, and everything is going fuzzy. Blood is everywhere. Her blood? His blood? Or both?

"She won't wake."

"Slap her."

There's a muffled suggestion as to where Eames can slap instead, and then a moment of pregnant silence. "What the bloody hell? It's possible, but a lost cause, because-" There's a sound of someone being punched, and none too lightly. There's muffled cursing. Ariadne wants to laugh. Most of these curses she's never heard before. She takes in a deep breath before opening her eyes. If this is another dream, and she sees Arthur with a Glock 17-

Eames and Arthur are peering down at her. Not exactly _peering_- more like staring with morbid curiosity. Another dream? Ariadne is about to reach for her totem and check when she remembers she left it at the University, and all the events of the day come rushing back. "Here." Arthur supplies her totem, and she takes it, staring. "You left it, and when I was leaving I saw it. So I took it for you." She nods her thanks and tips the totem over on the table next to her. It falls.

Eames leaves, with something that sounds suspiciously like "you two lovebirds". Ariadne'll have to corner the Forger later and ask him to repeat that particular sentence. Arthur's staring at her with a look that she can't quite name. Envy? Close, but that's not it.

"Where you dreaming?"

She nods. Not exactly dreaming, more like nightmaring, but there's not a very big difference. She always dreams of Arthur, whether nightmare or dream. He's always there, and the reason she rushes to sleep. That's the closest she can ever get to him. In real life, her fantasies are absurd wishes. Arthur looks at her through his lashes. His eyes are beautiful, she realizes. Dark and endless and dangerous and vulnerable and...beautiful. Suddenly she can name the feeling in Arthur's eyes: jealousy. But why?

"Sorry to disturb you, then. We just need to start planning-"

Ariadne suddenly wishes they were alone, without the prying eyes of Eames and the silent shape that is Yusuf. Gentle, steady Arthur. He moves a hand to her wrist and helps her stand. Her heart flutters, stops, then starts again.

Sunset finds the team (minus Cobb) on assorted lawn chairs, Eames tapping a pen on a blank notebook page and Arthur holding an uncapped marker in front of a white board.

Inception/Extraction

Arthur has neat handwriting, exactly like Ariadne would've thought. It has no needless scrawls and unidentifiable letters. She fiddles with her scarf. Her own handwriting is scrawly. Like someone dragged a chicken across the page, Professor Miles often tells her.

"Okay."

They all look up once he talks. Ariadne was possibly the fastest.

"Any ideas? We'll have to do the dream within a dream all over again. Like the Fischer job." There are nods of assents while Arthur writes _dream within a dream _on the board. Eames looks around, then holds up his pen. "Two levels. First we Incept that he'll retire early. The second level we Incept that he'll leave it to whatshername? Maka?" Arthur writes _two levels_ on the board, then caps his marker. "Makla," he corrects. He uncaps his pen again and twirls it between two fingers.

"How about we Extract on the first level? We split up and do the Mr. Charles gambit," Ariadne suggests. She couldn't care less about the Mr. Charles gambit; she wants to be able to kiss in a hotel lobby again. Arthur smiles at her and writes _Mr. Charles_ on the board. That's the smile Ariadne has been dreaming about. She shivers. Eames writes something in his notebook.

"So the first level we do two things: Incept that he retires early, and Extract the bottle designs. The second level we Incept that he leaves it to Makla," Arthur confirms. "Eames could impersonate her," Yusuf suggests. Eames is glowering. Arthur goes over to his desk and picks up a picture, and hands it to Eames, who looks at it fleetingly before passing to it Yusuf. Yusuf, in turn, passes it to Ariadne, who studies the picture.

She's pretty, she thinks almost immediately. With stark-red hair and gorgous blue eyes, a beautiful complexion, and a long and tapered figure, it's not hard to see. But there's a blankness behind her eyes. She's looking hard at the cell phone in her hand, and Ariadne would bet that she doesn't even know half the words being texted to her._ Stupid_, she thinks. _Beautiful but stupid_. Still, Ariadne can't stop the jealousy burning in her chest. She isn't ugly, but she isn't that pretty, either.

She passes the picture to Arthur, who glances at it briefly before setting it on the table.

"On to setting."

Ariadne sits up straighter. Her element. It almost makes her forget Makla. _Almost._

"After looking through the folders, I've deduced a few things." Ariadne can hear Eames muttering under his breath -"Deduce? Who the bloody hell says _deduce?_" - and tries to tune him out.

"He went to Our Lady of the Snows, where he was bullied-"-here Eames muttered something about Arthur being bullied- "as a child. Ari, can you design a Catholic school? With statues?" He pauses to rifle through the absolutely huge folder, but all Ariadne can hear is Ari (_AriAriAriAriAri)_. No one's called her that in a long time. She nods, but Arthur doesn't see it, and the overwhelming sense to be alone with him crashes over Ariadne like a wave. She busies herself with her scarf.

He passes her a few pictures, and his fingers brush hers, but all she can see is the school.

"Holy f-," breathes Eames. "That is one hell of a school."

It is. Ariadne raises her eyebrows at Arthur, who shrugs. "He's rich. Rich enough to buy out Hispanola." Yusuf lets out a whistle and leans closer to the picture. It's amazing- statues in corridors and plush velvet seats as chairs, this is obviously a school Ariadne would die to go to. But Arthur's right- you'd need to be filthy rich, bleeding money.

"Is the man black market? Because you don't get rich selling economical water bottles." Eames says. He lights a cigerette and leans back in his chair. Yusuf nods. Arthur shakes his head, looking troubled. "That's exactly it. He's not. Doesn't even dabble in drugs. Strictly clean. "

He doesn't need to say it, but Ariadne can hear his unspoken fear. _What if his subconcious was trained, too? _She would comfort him, but Eames is right there. She wonders what would happen if she knocks him out and drags his body outside. The three of them would whip out unseen guns, she muses.

"Maybe it's inheritance money," she suggests. Arthur's eyes light up. "Maybe," he breathes, and rifles through the folder a bit faster then nessecsary.

"The second level," he finally continues, "will be a hotel in NYC, where he and Makla went on their annual vaction. Here, Eames will impersonate Makla, and get Mr. Turnser to give the company to her when he retires. A five star hotel. Where they literally bow when you enter. Eames, how would you like a dress?"

Yusuf snorts into his elbow, and Eames, clearly affronted, doesn't answer. He instead changes the subject. "Let's plan this out level by level. What happens on the first level?"

"We split up into two," Ariadne says at the same time Arthur says, "We Incept and Extract." They glance at each other, then at Eames. Ari lapses into silence; did she just see Arthur blushing?

"Okay, on the first level, we'll do as Ariadne suggested. We split into two teams, and one team will Incept he retires early." He pauses a moment and taps the marker against his chin. "That will be Eames and Yusuf." He turns to the board and writes _Eames and Yusuf_ on the board. "The second team will-Ari and I-" there's that Ari again- "...Extract what new designs he has for a new economical water bottle. Then we'll all meet up in an old classroom or something and go into the secind level."

Eames nods as he writes this down eagerly in his notebook. "But we need a kick," he says after several moments of scribbling furiously, "strong enough to take us back up. What'll we do? Not bombs, please," he adds after catching the expression on Arthur's face."I'd rather be shot in the head."

"Possible, Eames. Very possible. In fact," and here Arthur smirks. Eames' hand drifts to his waist, where, Ari assumes, a gun is stashed. "...we can go into a dream right now and I'll shoot you as many times as your heart desires."

Eames visibly shivers.

Yusuf looks shocked.

Ariadne can't find any words to say. Arthur surveys the team, then caps his marker and sets it down on his desk. "I think we're done for today," he says, fixes his tie, and sits down at his desk. Ariadne goes to her own desk and pulls out a sketch pad. She impatiently flips through all of the drawings of Arthur (to her credit, there is one of Mal, too), to the back, where she starts to draw straight lines and curves of statues and hallways.

**.later.**

He's quietly flipping through the huge manila folder. He doesn't hear his name being called until Eames comes up to him and roughly shakes his shoulder. When Arthur looks up, Eames points to a slumbering Ariadne, her sketch pad held loosely between her fingers and about to fall. The pencil has already fallen. _She fell asleep._ Yusuf had too, but woken himself and managed to get to his car before falling asleep again.

But Ariadne? Arthur's loathe to waking her.

"Hmmm. I'll bring her home."

"Are you sure? I mean, the trails and everything. They might-"

"I'll stay with her."

Eames shuts up with an audible snap. Then he shakes his head and saunters off to his lawn chair, humming something under his breath. Arthur shakes in his resolve for a second, then stands up and crosses over to the slumbering girl. _Not girl, _Arthur tells himself sharply. _A young woman. Ari would have my head if she heard me call her that._

Eames is now whispering something to Yusuf: they both look at the sleeping Ari, then at Arthur. Yusuf hisses something to Eames, who roars with laughter and slaps him on his back. Yusuf fixes his now-crooked glasses. Arthur clenches his teeth and squares his shoulders, and marches the rest of the way over to the slumbering girl. But first he wants to see what she's done. He picks up her sketch pad and is about to open when Eames cautions him. "I was gonna do the same thing, mate. Like if she'd draw any pictures of me. No such luck. But she nearly punched my arm off." Arthur sighs and sets it down, the lightly shakes Ari's shoulder.

"Ari? Ari, it's time to go."

She wakes with a jolt and backhands Arthur across the face; he stumbles backwards while Eames is writhing on the floor, gasping and holding his ribs. His face is steadily turning red. Arthur abruptly wonders if she saw him with her book. Ariadne is on her feet, looking as if she's ready to smack Arthur again. Or much worse. He surrenders insantly, holding his hands up to shoulder length and edging away. "Sorry! Sorry!"

"I'm freakin' sick of _sorry,_ how many times do I need to be shot in the head, if you come near me and take out-"

Arthur follows this monologue with intrest: she had been dreaming about him. Well, maybe not just him. Maybe the whole team. But the team included him, didn't it? He feels his heart spatter against his ribcage. Ari fishes for her totem in her jeans pocket and sets it on the table. She takes a deep breath and pushes it.

It falls.

She's turning pale, the blood draining from her face and mouth popping open as she looks from the totem to Arthur. She tips it over once more for good measure, then scrambles to where Arthur is still standing, hands in the air. She touches his cheek, checking for any bruises, and his eyes find hers. Then she recoils, blushing, as if Arthur had whispered something dirty in her ear. He spares a moment to feel offended. That was _Eames' _department. He puts his arms down.

He can still feel her hand on his cheek.

"Sorry," she murmurs so low Arthur has to strain to hear her. "I just- you know. Self defense." She shoots a furtive look at Eames, so pointed one would have to be blond not to see it. Arthur takes a step back and angles his head. His cheek feels sore. He'd have to admit she had a good arm. Just on the wrong side of the punch.

"What was that?" Eames snickers. "You nearly bloody took his head off."

She blushes even more. She looks beautiful when she does, Arthur notices,then tries to concentrate. His line of work didn't include love; look how it turned out for Cobb and Mal. And yet, if he allows himself one kiss, it will blossom into something more. Arthur fixes his tie. Why couldn't he have been a dentist?

But he knows that even if he were, he would never be happy. He would've never met Ariadne.

"I was waking you up," he says to her now. She glances at him, biting her lip. "To take you home."

Eames whispers something under his breath that Arthur can only make out two words form. _Liar _and _rapist_. He'll have to corner the jokester later. And his accomplice, who is sniggering quietly. Arthur narrows his eyes at them. Yusuf has the good sense to shut up, but Eames keeps on laughing, keeping a steady eye on Arthur. In case the point man might suddenly lash out with his Glock 17 and bash him over the head, Arthur muses. Very aduquate.

She nods at him, glares at Eames. "I should go home," she says, then snatches up her bag, fallen pencil, and sketch pad. Arthur feels a pang of almost guilt- he's nearly invaded her privacy.

They drive home in near silence. Ari gazes out the window and fiddles with her scarf (green, with blue and red polka dots, he's _**noticed**_). Arthur concentrates on driving until they get to the door of her apartment building.

"What if...they...they come back for me?"

She's shaking, shaking so violently that Arthur's reminded of a buzzer. She looks up into his eyes, and Arthur thinks she stops breathing. Then she takes in a huge shuddering breath. Her face is pale.

"They won't." He wants to reassure her more then this small peice, wants to tell her he'd never let anyone hurt her, not without murdering him first. He takes her hand and she slowly stops shaking. "I'll stay," he offers. "In case..."

He suddenly realizes what he sounds like. He drops her hand and looks away.

**.Ari.**

At first there's blazing anger, at how _dare_ he try to play her like that, she's been brought up in New York City: like there wasn't a man trying to get into her house for one reason or another. She draws herself up, ready to spit the words in his face. Then she sees his dark eyes, his infinite eyes.

"Okay" is all she says, and leads him into her apartment without another word.

"You can sleep on the couch. Or that chair-" she gestures with a hand, "but I'll bet you'll like the couch better."

Arthur chuckles dryly at her humor. She tosses a bundle of blankets at him and hears the "oomph" as it hits him. She shuts the closet door. "Don't go through the fridge," she warns him. "I have a bat under the bed and it's been used. I bet it still has blood on it," she adds witha glance on Arthur's disbelieving face. He manages to form a question, and she locks the closet and leans against it to think.

"I don't know. It's been a long time since someone was over. And I was brought up in Brooklyn. All I know is it takes a lot for me to trust somebody."

She goes into her room to change into her pajamas.

Her dreams are different.

**A/N: This story is like my baby. Honestly. And for the format of the top of the page, I use lines from songs. I'll tell you which songs: Chapter One was What the Hell, by Avril Lavigne. This chapter is Sweet Dreams, by Beyonce. And thanks to the reviewers for Kicking Slowly and A Lifetime of Kisses. You made my day. Seriously, I nearly died. Thanks! And please keep an eye out for chapter three. Here's an expert:**

She's floating. Or drowing. Something to do with rivers of blood and a evil looking Mal, advancing with a huge knife. Just as she's advancing, about to lunge, Arthur takes the dive out of nowhere and is suddenly twisting on the floor in agony. As if to rub salt in his wounds, Mal pulls out a gun and shoots Arthur three times in the leg. It isn't pretty.

She held him as he died.

Then she was running. Running from something, running _to _something. But what?

**LADADADALA!**

**love you guys. a lot.**

**-cass**


	3. Chapter 3

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Hello. I have amazing news at bottom. WHHOOOOO!**

**Soundtrack: Decode- Paramore**

**'How can I decide what's right when you're clouding up my mind?' - Paramore (Decode, Paramore.)**

**Chapter Three: On and On**

She's floating. Or drowing. Something to do with rivers of blood and an evil looking Mal, advancing with a huge knife. Just as she's coming, her features twisted in a snarl, about to lunge, Arthur takes the dive out of nowhere and is suddenly twisting on the floor in agony. As if to rub salt in his wounds, Mal pulls out a gun and shoots Arthur three times in the leg. It isn't pretty: there's buckets of blood.

Ari held him as he died.

Then she's running. Running from something, running _to _something. But to what? The sun is blinding as it bakes the earth cracking underneath her bare feet. She stumbles, and arms catch her. She leans into those arms, knowing who it is without turning around. The world is steady as she rights herself, and turns to look into those dark eyes that capture her soul every time. She takes a deep breath and looks into Arthur's eyes, aware she'll lose herself.

She never gets a chance to.

His eyes are shut tight and he screams. She looks around, but can't really see because all she's aware of is that he's in pain (painpainpain**pain**) and she sees his leg. Cut with slashes all over, deep and red and like a smiling wound, she gasps and steadies the trembling Arthur. She can feel him slipping away into the next room, gasping quietly and not letting go of her hand. He's comforting her. They are both crying as the dream crumbles.

**.Arthur.**

"Ari? Ari, are you okay?"

The room is silent as she screams again, grasping the sheets. Arthur admits it: he's scared. Normally when he was scared, he pulls out a gun and starts shooting, but there's nothing to shoot in this case. He settles into the chair next to the bed and holds Ari's hand. Her nails dig into his palm, biting his skin, and he can feel her pulse fluttering against his wrist. She's crying in her sleep, and she sits half way up before sagging against the pillow again. Slowly her eyes open. His heart stutters in his chest. Never before has he seen anyone so...broken.

There's a moment of pregnant silence.

"**Arthur**?"

The word seems precious in her mouth, the silence following so loud and extreme it might just break into tiny splinters of glass. She watches him with bated breath, searching, watching, but for what he doesn't know.

He nods.

She doesn't say anything, only searches for her totem on the nightstand. She shuts her eyes and tips it over. It falls.

Then she's hugging Arthur, sobbing into his shoulder. And he comforts her.

**.Ariadne.**

He's going to ask soon, and she's not going to answer. She nurses the cup of coffee in her hand. Arthur doesn't say anything, and this is undeniably worse.

Then she spots the crescent shaped marks on his palm, spaced out and bleeding a little. She gasps, and grabs his hand to inspect it. Her heart flutters against her ribcage as she comes to a realization. "Did I…Did I do this?" she whispers. She focuses on his hand. Afraid of his answer, but she knows she did. He didn't have the marks last night and he would've never done this to himself. Arthur nods. "Unintentionally. Ari, what were you dreaming about?"

Heat flushes her face and she murmurs an excuse about getting band-aids. She pretends to search in the closet, exclaims a fake "Aha!" and then slowly walks back to the kitchen. Arthur's still there and still awaiting an answer as he puts the band-aid on. He's tapping his fingers on the table.

"Nothing," she says, "of importance. Would you like more coffee?" Arthur doesn't answer her question and instead leans forward, leaning his elbows on the aged wood of the kitchen table. She rubs her hand on the wood a bit absently: it's a comforting sight, her kitchen table, with its whorls and knots and darkened wood. She takes a deep breath and tries to avoid Arthur's intense gaze.

"You were screaming," he starts, "since around seven. You woke up at nine. Three hours of screaming. What were you dreaming about?"

She wants to lose herself in his eyes, and she can't quite remember what he's asked. Her heart is thumping solidly against her chest, and she can't take a breath. She's still staring into his eyes when he asks her again and she gasps, sucking in a breath that tastes faintly of wine and smoke.

"Nothing."

"You sure?"

His eyes are disbelieving, staring at her with a fierce intensity. She nods, at a loss for words, then takes a sip of her coffee and makes a face. She's forgotten to put sugar and milk.

"I trust you."

"I know."

And she smiles at him, he smiles back ( but certainly hasn't forgotten, he isn't **stupid**).

**.later.**

"The damn-"

Eames never finishes his sentence. Ariadne smiles, knowing exactly why Arthur and she were late- Ari takes forever in the shower- but Arthur doesn't and cuts the Forger a look.

"Ariadne's finished the first part of the level- the Catholic school. So. What have you guys got?"

Eames uncaps his own marker and this time it's Arthur taking notes in the notebook.

"I have a sedative that'll allow extreme deep sleep. You'll be able to feel the kick and such, because your inner ear is left intact, but Mr. Turnser will be left asleep as you guys leave the dream through the kick. I'm still working on a little...complication."

"Like what?" Arthur asks.

"Um...extreme noises and fast movement- it might drop you into Limbo." Yusuf blushes. "It's not something I can't fix, though. I almost have it cracked." Arthur looks at him for another second, then moves on.

"I know how we'll get him under."

In spite of herself, Ariadne becomes interested. She's only seen one other time for getting the mark under, and they were in an airplane. She wonders how they'll do it now.

"He has a dentist apointment. Gum surgery, of the sorts. Either way, he'll be out like a light for two hours." Arthur glances at Yusuf. "Hope you'll have it cracked by then."

Yusuf blushes like a tomato.

"Kay. I'm going to see Ariadne's school." Arthur stands and crosses over to the PASIV device, and Ariadne follows. The rest of the team watches them, and they insert the needle into their wrist at the same time.

The dream comes like a rush.

**A/N: sorry chapter's so short- it's a set up chapter. News: I have a new fanfic, Complexity. Check it out! Review!**

**-Cass**


	4. Chapter 4

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Hey, Hey! Thanks for reveiwing my last chapter!**

**Chapter Four: Sharp Curves**

**Soundtrack: Criminal- Britney Spears**

It's extremely bright, the harsh sun nearly blinding him as he finds himself on a hot bench and children jump rope and play tag in the playground. He sees Ariadne, leaning against the building. She beckons to him with one finger and then climbs the staircase leading into a low, sprawling building, and he can smell the baking brick from here. He stands to follow her, hands jammed into his pockets. He believes in her ability with all of his heart (_all though after the things he's __**done**__ he __**doubts**__ if he has one_) but he's nervous. The children are unnerving him, something sinister in the way they skip on the hot pavement, but he can't place his finger in it. He stares at them as he passes them, but they take no notice of him, counting off the number of jumps out loud.

He practically runs up the staircase.

Ariadne's waiting for him inside, arms crossed and expression almost- almost _**gaurded**_, but Arthur takes no notice. His jaw threatens to fall open as he pivots in a small circle, taking it in.

It's all white, but that's not the shocking part. It's all angles and curves, no straight lines, in a delicate and intricate maze. White and confusing, but he can see the flash of something blue down a curvy hallway that suddenly veers to the left.

"This way," Ariadne says, and he sees that she's smiling. She's liked his reaction, but Arthur doesn't see what she'd be insecure about. He's never made something like this. Respect for Ariadne kindles inside of him, and he follows her down the hallway. Her steps make a sharp, crisp, almost clean staccato song as she walks- he suddenly sees that she's in high heels and an almost buisness like suit. Like she wore for the Fischer job- but that was a Vera Wang suit, and he can't even tell for this one.

"_**Quick, give me a kiss."**_

**He can see the question in her eyes, the question of perception that drew him to her in the first place- but he leans in and she does as well, and then their lips are touching. The brush of skin- cold and clammy, warm and soft, and it tears at his heart. He wants her. He can't have her. **

**The kiss could've been longer, and he knows it. But he leans away anyway.**

Ariadne stops in front of a door numbered _101_ and she leads inside, pushing the door open with the slightest pass of her fingers. Arthur vividly remembers that one mistake, the slip up that follows him around, and focuses on the white tiles under his feet.

It's then he sees what's wrong with the children in the playground.

"Fuck," he hisses, and Ariadne spins around, eyebrows raised. "What-" she starts, but never finishes, because Arthur's talking over her, loudly and calmly and almost detatched, in a Point Man voice. It's then she knows something's wrong. Very, _very _ wrong.

"The children outside- they're not projections."

"What are they?"

"Extras. You're about to find out the bad side of Extracting. Lock the door."

She does so, eyes darting about the room. Arthur pulls out a gun- from where Ariadne can't fathom- and leans his shoulder against the door, bracing himself. Then a small rain shower of fists begin to push and shove at the door. Five kids, Arthur can handle. Twenty kids, Arthur can handle. But around forty it gets worrisome, and this is exactly what is happening now. They push and shove at the door, while Arthur grits his teeth.

"Get ready," he spits at Ariadne, and she braces herself, shutting her eyes and exiting reality so quickly that Arthur feels he's left behind. Ariadne's singing to herself, hands over her ears.

Gunshots, so many that they blend together, assualt Ariadne's ears, and the singing doesn't help. She opens her eyes to see Arthur lastly pointing the gun at her.

"You'll wake up," he says (almostwith**no**emotionandit_**scares**_her). Then he pulls the trigger, and a flash of something hot striking her just under he collarbone, and then she staring up through murky air at a chipped and high ceiling.

She sees what's wrong- _they weren't smiling._

Not one. And they were children...

Hmmmm. She's never thought of a bullet being _hot_ before. It distracts her for a moment before she hears Arthur shift beside her.

It scares her a little- how he can change his face so quickly, from joking to merely serious to Point Man. How over the past week or so they've been playful, almost (for _**Arthur**_) and then, in a moment of danger, he's quickly the most most effiecint- Point Man.

He's at her side already, before her brain's registered he's there, and he's gently removing the needle. "_Extras?" _she whispers, because her voice is hoarse. From the way Eames is staring at her, she has a faint, dim idea that she was screaming while she was under. Arthur is speaking softly, the way you might with a frightened animal.

She can't hear him.

**A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter, but I'grounded and this is the best I can do. Review! I love you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Hello, hello. And xomusiclover93ox, yes, Cobb retired. I just, um, didn't know how to fit that in. I was going to do it when I found the space, but here I go. Yes, he retired with his children far away from Paris. Somwhere in Africa, I believe. And yes, I think I used this song already, but I feel it fits this chapter EXTREMELY well. And go to my profile and look at Complexity. Please... I sort of feel like it doesn't get enough attention...I don't know. It's a weird feeling. Continue reading, please. **

**Soundtrack: Center of Attention- Jackson Waters**

**"You want your indepence...but you won't let me let you go." - Jackson Waters (Center of Attention)**

**Chapter Five: The Lost Extras**

Her hearing tunes in again within a couple of seconds. His fingers are tracing soft circles on her wrist, and he's not exactly looking at her, even if she wants him to-

"...they're the lost kind of projections. They went into dreams, and for some reason, didn't come back out. I just... I** didn't**... Ariadne..." He looks up at her, and she can see the rawness in his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he murmurs, and Ariadne can see that Eames and Yusuf, who are leaning in while trying to act inconspicious at the same time. "It's okay," she mutters back. "It wasn't that bad." He stands, pulling her up with him. He knows she's lying, but doesn't comment as he goes to fill Eames and Yusuf in while she settles at her desk, pulling her sketch pad towards her.

What she won't say in the fridgid silence is how _scared_ she was: not because of the Extras. If they killed her (**however long it would take**) she would simply wake up again. It was that Arthur turned into the man she met because of the Inception, so quickly. How many faces did he have? What was he really like? She wanted to know. And did she want to know...?

Hot bullets. It took all of Ariadne's will power not to giggle. She started drawing, quickly, straight lines that would never change on paper...

**.later.**

Confusion, at first: why won't Arthur let her come? Then annoyance, and then lastly: desperation.

"It's arcitecture," she whines. "I can help or whatever, I just want to see the building."

Arthur turns, with his leather jacket in his arms and an interested look in his eyes. But he says nothing, so she continues rashlessly. "It's the freaking goddamn _**mansion, **_Arthur! A mansion! I want to see it! For architectural reasons, if nothing else- I want to at least see it!"

"What if he notices you?"

"What if he notices **you**?"

"Touche," grunts Eames from behind his desk. Yusuf sniggers. "Shut up," Ariadne snaps at them. Arthur turns all the way around to stare at her.

"One condition," he says after what feels like an eternity.

Ariadne jumps up to throw her arms around him, but thinks better of it last minute and instead ends up looking like an idiot.

"Which is?" she says slowly, fiddling with her hands in her lap. She stops suddenly as she starts. She's aware that Arthur can tell a person's mood- if they're agitated, nervous, happy- he can tell all that. She watches him carefully.

Sometimes, she'll look at the darkness of his eyes and remember the dark soul of those Extras- not a normal nature, because they weren't exactly **human.** And then she'll think that she wants Arthur to kiss her, to kiss those eyelids that hide a soul not so innocent as hers but maybe just as good: she wants to blame it on hormones or some other shit, but she knows she just really wants to kiss him. Her eyes flit to his lips and then back to his eyes.

He didn't miss it.

"You must do what I tell you to do, at all times. No buts, ifs or ors."

"Oh, that came out funny. Darling, try not to make it any simpler."

Ariadne fights the **very** tempting urge to kill Eames.

"Of course," she says, and then they head out to his car.

**A/N: Again, sorry for the short chapter! Next will be longer, I promise.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: I don't know, review. Thank you, those who reveiwed already. You just made my day. Thank you. **

**Soundtrack: Broken Down- Kevin Hammond**

**' And she's broken down, just look into her eyes, you can see that something's missin'- Kevin Hammond**

**Chapter Six: Jealous Dreamers**

"You're here to _what_?"

Ariadne decides she doesn't like whoever this man is. She should've just stayed in the car, even in the sweltering heat. The outside of Mr. Turnser's mansion was beautiful. Twisted gold and beige bricks. It had made Ariadne's heart flutter. Even Arthur had looked a little shocked.

At least he was no where as near shocked when he saw my school. She thought of the exta twists and turns- the maze inside a maze. She'd been partly inspired by the dream inside a dream inside a dream Cobb had shown her. And paradoxes. Many of them. She'd have to remind herself to tell Arthur- there hadn't been time to show him. Anyhow, se wasn't going to dream for a _**very **_long time. Arthur had made sure of that. He ignored Ariadne's protests. "I don't care," he'd said stubbornly. He reminded Ari of her own nephew. Cute and adorable, but stubborn like a goat. She smiles at the man in the doorway.

"We were called because we heard there were ants. Exterminators."

"You don't look like exerminators."

No, we don't. We're actually here to observe Makla and see what she's like so Eames can impersonate her and make sure you guys become dirt poor- but if you don't let us in through that door I will personally kill you, your children, your children's children, and if I don't live that long then I will come back and haunt **you. **

Arthur takes a deep breath, and Ari can see the muscle working in his jaw. Twitching and jumping, it was. She stifles a laugh.

"We're here to look at the landscape. To see where they are."

The man narrows his eyes. Ariadne can see herself punching him.

Maybe it's because Ariadne wants to kill him so badly, or because he can sense something, but he opens the door and allows him indside.

Inside it's mix of gold, silver, and black. She feels like she's inside a very expensive car. Probably one of the Porsches in the driveway.

Arthur bends down to whisper in Ari's ear. "Her room is one the top floor. Take notesabout what her room looks like, what her clothes resemble, how much makeup she has."

_Probably not a lot. _

She nods once to show she understands, then quickly, before the man turns around again, climbs the stairs to the top floor.

It's the same as downstairs. The decorations are some plastic gold flowers in black vases. She notes it carefully.

Then she pulls her scarf up to cover her mouth and knocks on the only pink thing on the whole floor. Makla's room, she assumes.

She opens the door and Ariadne takes a step backwards.

Makla is _**tall. **_Like, seven foot five or something. She's a _**giant**_...Ariadne swallows. Makla narrows her eyes at the intruder. "Who are _you_?" she bites out vemonously. Ariadne bites back the urge to shove her words back into the perfect girl's face.

"Exterminating," she says weakly, holding up her noebook. As she looks down, she notices that she's on high heels. Short high heels.

"Oh," she says. "Is that like, an invite to a club or something?"

"Um- yeah. A halloween club. You have to go..in costume. I have to see if you're eligeble. I have to see the _inside _of your room."

"Okay," Makla says brightly, allowing Ariadne inside.

She breathes out and enters.

Pink.

Everything's pink. All varying shades of pink- hot pink, soft pink. Even something that resemble vomit-colured pink. Ari fights the urge to vomit herself. She can't **stand **the colour.

Makla teteers on her high heels, a hand pressed to her stomach. She's probably hungover, Ariadne sees. She even holding her head in a way that implies a monster headache. She fights a smirk.

"So," she says.

Ariadne peers into her closet. All club clothes. She only sees one coat and around three sweaters.

"Is this only for..special people? Because I'd like to know how **you** got in." _Subtly implying I'm ugly. _She turns around, arms crossed.

"I'm the daughter of the Russian prime minister. They invited me _first_." Ariaden lies easily. She looks at Makla's shoes. Mostly high heels and a few flats and boots. No sneakers.

"Oh," says Makla stupidly. "I thought you were...you were..."

"It's okay." Ariadne says. She notes Makla's umade bed and the closed curtains. She glances at her dresser. She was right. No makeup. Does she even get pimples?

In all- party girl. She hasn't seen one book, one textbook, any indication that she even goes to school. Just some scotch poorly concealed under her bed.

She takes her leave. Before she goes, she points at the liquor. "I'd take it easy on that if I were you," she advises. Makla groans and pitches herself onto her bed before Ariadne shuts the door.

"No sneakers," she tells Eames. "Try some short sultry dresses- you wouldn't have a problem with that, would you?- like club clothes. High heels. And she's tall. Like, monster. Seven foot five. Skinny. And very, very hungover."

The light outside the warehouse is fading rapidly. "Good job," Arthur says, looking up from his papers. He wears reading glasses.

She smiles.

"Did you get her number, by any chance?" Yusuf leans forward. She glares at him. He leans back.

"Yeah. !-800-DUMBASS."

Eames snorts. Arthur sort of smiles, and Yusuf manages a bruised grin.

"Oh- yeah. No makeup. At ALL. And no pimples. Try to make her like some sea goddess or something."

Eames leans forward until only she can hear him. "Jealous?"

She swallows. Her words sound scattered and skittery, like wooden sticks on the street. "No. Why should I be?"

In answer, Eames leans his head at Arthur.

_Beauty. _

The sea is as lovely and inviting as always. She wants to swim in it. Damp sand clings to her toes and skin. She can see a figure approaching.

Then she's in a hotel. A fancy, posh NYC hotel. Arthur's staring out the window. She feels her heart sputter and attack her rib cage. In her flimsy dress, she can feel every slight distubance of wind.

He turns to look at her. She smiles.

"Kiss me."

He 's as lovely as she always dreams it would be. Her dreams are warped, even now- the PASIV, probably- and she can see shadows lurking. And as happy as she is now is as sad and ripped apart when she suddenly sees him kissing Makla instead. She seems to have shrunk to Ariadne's five foot two and she watches, wounded and bound, him kiss the spot behind her ear. She can still hear the sea.

"Knew it," she suddenly says bitterly. She stomps out her cigerette and walks out of the hotel room.

"You should let him go."

Eames is waiting outside.

She flinches. "I'm not supposed to be on the PASIV," she says guiltily. "I know. Hell, I'm not supposed to, either. But what's going on in that room-" he raps smartly on the door, "is probably never going to happen."

"What you said...today..."

"It's obvious. In a job like mine you learn how to read people."

"Oh."

So now she even _sounds _like Makla.

"I don't understand women," Eames grunts, and enters the now arriving elevator and exits gracefully. She takes a deep breath and enters the room again, just as the dream crumbles.

She'd put herself for five minutes. When she opens her eyes, she sees Arthur asleep in the lawn chair and Eames next to her. He blinks his eyes open and grins at her, holding out his hand. She accepts it and they quietly go to their respective chairs to go to sleep.

**A/N: Review, please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Thank you, reveiwers. Once again, my day was made. Twenty reviews...? Who sent me there?**

**Soundtrack: Papa Don't Preach - Glee**

**'I've been losing sleep-'Glee**

**Chapter Seven- Horror Levels**

"Test it out."

For the first time in the past week, Eames is speechless. Ariadne can't grab the satisfaction she would normally, for his words last night are echoing, loud and vibrant in her head. _"You should let him go...In a job like mine you learn how to read people...Is never going to happen..."_

As if reading her thoughts, her sends her a very smug look. She sends him one that clearly says, _f- off. _He looks wounded. They both refocus their attention on Arthur. "The first level. Oh, and I changed some things."

Her heart is ripped out when he continues. "Instead of me and Ariadne pairing, it's going to be Ariadne and Yusuf, with Eames and I."

Eames vvisibly winces-probably for Ari's benefit- but she doesn't notice. "Yeah," she mumbles under her breath. "That would be great." "Eames and I,"he mutters under his breath. "Who the bloody hell says Eames and _I_?"

"So we'll balance each other out," he further explains. She ignores him. "Okay, at it," Eames says loudly, and strides over to a lawn chair and begins hooking himself up. She picks the chair next to him. Instead of waiting for Arthur to come around, she puts it in herself, jabbing it into her skin and wincing. She put it too hard, like always...Somehow Arthur made it feel like it wasn't even happening. She couldn't feel it. She rotated her wrist and glares at the blood pooling on it. There's going to be a big fat bruise tomorow. Shit. No way Arthur isn't going to notice _that. _And then he'll insist on putting it on for her.

"Ten minutes," Arthur says. He nods at Yusuf, who's about to press the button. "Okay, go."

"Holy mother of the **sons** of _bitches_," Eames breathes. Ariadne glances around the school yard. There are no children. And there's an ominous storm brewing not too far away. Not at all the happy image like before. No, this one was just...openly evil. She shivers. She shoots a glance at Arthur. He seems suspicious. He leans over and mutters something to Eames.

"Inside," he says tersely.

Ariadne shivers again. Not at the wind that is now scattering the leaves in the playground, but at the icy shards in his tone.

Yusuf looks expressionless. Ariadne suddenly feels like she is missing something terribly important.

The moment they are inside, everything she has planned to ask is forgotten.

Black.

Everything- the statues, the walls, the carpet, are now a terrible, screaming black, the windows covered and any source of light omitted. It looks like a horror movie. It **feels** like a horror movie. She gasps a little.

Then as soon as she is to turn around, Arthur is at her elbow, whispering into her ear.

"The Extras. They're playing with us. Pretend like you don't notice anything. Stay by me. Don't say anything- no loud movements. Quiet."

"Have you delt with this before?" she asks, softly. He nods his head grimly.

He wisely omits that he'd been shot twice that time- in the back of his knee and his shoulder.

They continue onward.

She also knowsshe shouldn't be scared- that Arthur and Eames and Yusuf are probably hiding guns somewhere on their person, so she should just _relax_. The fact of the matter is, in horror movies, sometimes they prey has guns. Does it matter? Not in the slightest.

But this is a dream.

And if she sees Arthur's body dragged away by some low-life Extra, she _will _lose it. Blurt out everything- her dreams, her feelings, everything. And probably jeapordize the mission, while at it. So she presses herself into Arthur and breathes him in and tries to ignore it. Safe, she is. Safe. Safe. Safe, with him near and breathing the same air that she breathes-

A door opens.

"Split up into pairs." Arthur commands in a low voice. "Saty quiet. If something attacks you, fire your gun three times."

So her theory _had_ been correct.

She and Eames walk down the forked hallway. This one is curvy and twists in on itself, but she guides him through it, ignoring his low whistles of appriciation. "Okay, we can wait in here a bit-"she starts. Later, when she thinks about it, she **had** finished her sentence. It was just lost in the flurry of movement.

She trips and falls, yelling when she slams into the floor. Even when she stops moving, the sound of mevement still continues onward.

Two shots, but Eames never got to the third one. A black-eyed child was scraping her sharp nails along the back of his neck. Ariadne screams at the sudden blankness in his eyes. Dead, died- shit-

She scrabbles for his gun as the child leaps away. She aims at it but misses entirely, instead clipping a light fixture above it. The force of the gun jerking sends her off her feet. When she presses a hand to her head, it comes away soaked in blood. She giggles.

The child- no, the Extra, laughs along with her. It's creeping closer, but Ariadne doesn't see it.

When it leaps, it's pushed out of the air by a bullet.

"Wow," comments Yusuf. "That's the first clear shot I've had in a while."

Ariadne gasps. "Eames," she manages. "Eames-he's...the Extra...Where's Arthur...?"

Yusuf frowns. "He should be coming. He's having just a bit of trouble with some Extras."

"And you LEFT him?"

"He told me to leave."

She checks her gun. She isn't an expert, and she'd rather just drop the gun and run away from it's hot metal, but she's pretty sure it still has some ammo.

"Well, we should just wait here a few moments. He'll be coming along."

They wait ten minutes.

Twenty.

Twenty-five.

Yusuf mutters a curse under his breath. "Let's go," he says. Ari follows without hesitation.

It looks like a war zone. She can't help but feel sad at the state of her precious school. _All your fault_. _You had the nerve to fall. _

They come across Arthur.

He's not dead. But he very well could be.

She can see the small movement of his chest that indicates breathing, and her soul freezes into ice. Blood. Blood everywhere. His eyes are closed.

_Is this a dream? Is this really a dream? This isn'ta dream. This sin't the PASIV. He's dying. Dying...!_

_Save him!_

"Arthur?" She drops to her knees next to his head. No sign that shows he knows she's there. She fights the uurge to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "We're going to wake soon," she says.

"We can wake now."

When she looks up at Yusuf, she sees the gun in his hand. "Wake Arthur first," she says. "Then yourself. I'll go...next."

Yusuf eyes her. "Do it," she snaps.

He swallows, then clips one into Arthur's temple. He jerks with the force of the bullet and stops breathing immediately.

Then fires one into his one temple. He falls over backward with a thud. Then it's Ariande and their dead bodies. She can still see the Extras lurking in the corner.

"Go," she snaps at them. They leave.

Arthur's not beathing. She shouldn't be, either. This is the PASIV. She has proof now- the dead bodies.

She shoots herself next. The flash of white and black, from a destroyed school building to a warehouse.

When she awakens, she sees Arthur pacing at the foot of her lawn chair.

"What just...how...?"

He stops moving, glancing at her.

"I'll explain later. To the whole team."

She gets up, moving her arm gingerly. True to her predictions, there is a bruise.

"Let me see that."

The click of Arthur's shoes on the cement warehouse floor alerts her to the fact that Arthur is, indeed, coming closer.

"It's fine."

She turns away.

"Ariadne?"

"I don't want to talk right now."

She can almost see Arthur processing this. "I'll explain later," she says when she senses that he can't come up with an adaquate excuse.

She will. She promises herself.

**A/N: Review! Reveiw! Review, I say..!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Some MAJOR news... NEW STORY! IT is called Movement and I spent the past few weeks writing and rewriting it, so I'd like and appreciate it if you went on over to my profile and checked it out. That being said, here is SK.**

**Chapter Eight- Waiting**

**Soundtrack:Inside Out- Britney Spears**

He'd died. Died- right there, in front of her, pooling blood. And here he is. His eyes fluttered closed, his breathing labored and heavy. Dead. And the Extras- so close she can feel their unhuman hearts waiting to rip her apart. She breathes.

And he has the nerve to act normal.

Did he not feel himself dying? Didn't he care?

Part of Ariadne screams that it's part of the job- it's always part of the job- but another part brings her back to the dying Arthur.

Her dreams torment her.

A bloody sea tossing about a lifeless figure, a dark, empty room that smells of death and wine, kisses on her eyelids. But it's the last, achingly perfect dream and sinister vision that has her reeling into reality and hunting for coffee in the still darkness of the warehouse.

It's in a hotel.

She finds herself laughing, exhilerated, as Arthur kisses her collarbone and behind her ear and her forehead. The room is cold, with the window open and all, but Arthur's body is pressed into hers and very warm. She curls into his heat.

"I...love..you,"he murmurs between kisses. "I know," she says, laughing.

Then Ariadne is sent furthur into his arms as the door bursts open behind her.

Ariadne shrieks.

Mal.

She's holding a gun- a sleek, shiny gun that Ariande's never seen before, held losely in her fingers. Arthur visibly pales.

"You don't know how to love," Mal sneers, drawing near. The wind from the open window flutters the dress around her legs. Ariadne's heart is slamming against her ribcage, beating as if running a marathon, and all her mind is churning out is-

-is **arthurarhurarthurarthur**-

"You won't ever love. To be half of a whole is-" Mal shrugs, eyes focusing on Ariadne, "glorious."

Arthur shoots at her and misses. Ariadne presses herself against him and listens to his steady heartbeat. Hers, she knows, is erratic and uneven, a loud thumping thing in her chest.

Mal kills Arthur. Ariadne should've seen it coming.

"Why?" she yells at Mal over Arthur's body. Eyes closed, resting in a pool of his own blood. No- no...!

"Why? Why stop love? How...why?"

"Because I can't love. So no one else can."

Mal says it softly, crouching next to Arthur. Ariadne stands and backs away.

'"You can't keep doing that. Others...others love too. And I'll love. Even if he dies."

When she says 'dies', Mal visibly flinches, snarling. Ariadne gets Arthur's gun and lightly kisses his forehead before walking out of the hotel room.

She drinks four cups of coffee after that, just to stop herself from dreaming. And she watches Arthur's very much alive body breathe and move in sleep. Then she draws.

He cares about the job, she insists to herself. It's the job, the job, to him. He's delt with this kind of thing before.

She looks around the warehouse.

They all have.

Eames, Yusuf, Cobb. Mal.

Mal. Ariadne shivers. Throughout the Inception, she was a force to be reckoned with, but now, showing up in even Ariadne's dreams as a Shade, she made Ariadne shiver. Her hair, her large and haunting green eyes.

It makes her remember her time in the elevator with Cobb.

"You said we'd grow old together! You said!"

For a moment, Ariadne want to sink into dreams again to forget her thoughts. But then she looks at Arthur again. She'd rather not risk it.

Daylight finds a tired Ariadne drawing. Eames wakes first, glancing at her, then sitting up and rubbing his back.

"These bloody lawn chairs-"

He takes a closer look at Ariadne's sketch pad. "May I see that, darling?" he asks. She throws it to him, aiming at his face, but he plucks it out of the air easily. He flips through it- but right before he can reach the last page, Ariadne snatches it back, blushing.

"Oh." Eames waggles his eyebrows. She sighs at him. "Don't. They're barely there."

"Some dirty things in there? Never pegged you for one, Ariadne."

She slaps him, then goes to the warehouse bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. At this point, she doesn't care if the others wake.

When she's out, the taste of mint still fresh in her mouth and in a considerably better mood, she sees the others have set up.

"We're going into a nuetral dream space," Arthur explains. "We're going to have Adam- a projection- we're going to see how he is with Eames."

Ariadne supresses a snicker. "You mean Makla," she says. The Foger shoots her a dirty look.

"Okay, on with it," says Eames.

She settles into her respective lawn chair. She forgets about the bruise until ARthur approaches, and the it's too late.

He crouches next to her, eyes wide and calculating.

"You bruised yourself last time."

"Yes."

He slides it into her other wrist, eyes never leaving hers. She curses herself for her heart beating so loudly in her chest. No-no, no.

Then he does something that drives her over the edge.

Makes her question-**am i dreaming? am i dreaming? **over and over to herself, muttering it, because this can't be real life. No, cannot be real life. Real life would never be so...amazing.

He kisses her bruised wrist.

Her heart slams against her chest in an effort to get out. She blushes and clears her throat.

"Unmh..thank you."

"Always welcome."

He stands and hooks himself up before pressing the button.

Just like last night, everything goes black.

**A/N: So, like...reveiw. AND check out Movement. Always check out Movement.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Who checked out Movement? Thank you, those who reviewed. Now- review again! And then read :) I worked really hard. 3**

**Chapter Nine: Warmth**

**Soundtrack: Smile- Avril Lavigne**

A cafe.

No- not a hotel, like many of her dreams have been like lately. A cafe, small and intimate, where everything is bustling and the coffee tastes amazing and the food like crap. It's small and artfully decorated.

Ariadne can't concentrate.

No- not with the feel of Arthur's lips on her skin, feather-light and his breath brushing up against her. She can imagine it trailing up to her elbow and pausing there- then furthur up to her lips and-

-a_nd-_

"Ariadne? He's there."

She watches as Eames sashays his way over to where Adam is sitting, flipping through a menu.

They converse easily, Eames fully acting the part of a spoiled and party crazed daughter, and then he says his goodbyes and leaves. She and Arthur get ready to go, Arthur trailing behind her.

She knows now.

**"There's nothing quite like it."**

No- there's nothing quite like **you**.

His lips on her skin- it had felt so much like a dream. The best kind of dream- where he doesn't die or she doesn't die and they both are okay in this world- _yes_- and there is no Mal to deal with, no annoying Forgers (although Ariadne loves him like a little, pesky brother), no death-just _dreams_. A place where they can both dream in peace.

He **kissed** her **wrist**.

And?

She wouldn't let herself hope.

**.later.**

They're going to perform the Inception/Extraction the day after tomorrow.

She hopes she's ready.

And that she doesn't dream.

But Arthur isn't helping her in that department.

She wants to talk to him- away from the prying eyes of Eames and Yusuf, one on one. She's dreading it- because her hopes can be hopelessly and forever dashed. And looking forward to it- for then her hopes can be lifted, sky high.

-**thewarmthofhisskinonhers-**

-makes her go over to where he is sitting, flipping through his folders, and suggest it. That she wants to talk to him, and can they possibly use the PASIV for a few minutes.

**yes.**

**yes**_**yes**__yes_yes-

Yes.

She slides the needle in on her own, softly, gently, ignoring the wieght of Arthur's eyes on her skin.

She is just going to talk.

Yes.

Is she sure?

No.

She wants to do so much more, alone with him- like in her dreams, in her dreams, in her dreams when they are each killed.

For that reason she dreams of a hotel.

**.later.**

The ususal green dress- but there is no cigerette- and the same billowing window.

She wants to know what he is thinking.

Was kissing her in the hotel in the Inception a mistake?

Was kissing her wrist a mistake?

**islovingyouamistake**

isit?

He's at the window, staring outside. It's dark. Night time. The door clicks shut behind her. SHe can't breathe. He turns when the door shuts.

Her words catch in her throat. She doens't know what to say. They clutter in her mouth- stuck and loud and obnoxious.

"Kiss me."

It comes- fast and insistent, and she only know she's said it when they are hovering there, in front of her. An offering.

"Please."

**islovingyouamistake? don'tbe. don'teverbe. justbe **_**mine.**_** itwon'tbeamistakeifyoukissme.**

His eyes- damn those eyes- so beautiful and dark and soulful. He's coming closer.

So close that she can smell him

Is this a dream? **It is. In a good way.**

His fingers at her temple, brushing her hair back.

A dream. This must be a dream. It isn't real-

but it is-

And then he kisses her.

He kisses her.

**A/N: Cliffy. Fluff. What more can I say? Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Slow Kicks**

**A/N: Sorry for the major cliff. But- here you go!**

**Soundtrack: Lovesick- Emily Osmet**

**Chapter Ten: Lovesick**

**Kiss me.**

Kiss _me._

_She can feel Arthur's lips tracing patterns on her cold skin- the smell of the sea- _

_**This isn't a mistake.**_

_**I love you.**_

The funny thing about dreams: you feel them but not yet feel them. You feel the patterns on your skin and also the irregular thumping in your chest- but you _know _it's not real. Therefore, you don't get as much out of it as liked.

But.

This is better then anything Ariadne's ever felt before- the warmth, the beauty, the utter feel of him-** want to curl onto him and kiss him- his eyelids, his cheeks**-

His lips ghost over to her temple and place a fluttery kiss there-

-then to her mouth again-

**you're not dreaming. not dreaming. this is a dream, but you're not dreaming-**

kissing her wrist.

Kissing her now.

She's kissing him now.

Questions press up against her bones- pounding, demanding attention. It's the last thing she wants to do, but she breaks away from Arthur. He looks at her- really looks, right down to her strange, mapped out archetitected mind, and smiles. She smiles back. Breathless. Like when she said, **kiss me, **and he did. Like she is now. How she was when he kissed her wrist.

"I asked you here because I wanted to talk," she says.

**we are never broken.**

"About?"

"Tomorrow. And earlier." She takes a deep breath, letting it out and blushing at the same time. "And...this."

"This?"

"Shut up."

She wants to know.

Do you like me? This isn't a mistake?

**wait. don't look at me like that.**

**fuck this, kiss me-**

**and you're so tainted and i'm so not and i don't know what to do but i know i want you. you want me, don't you? because the way i want you is criminal.**

**criminal.**

He sighs. "I don't know," he says carefully. "I just- I don't-"

In all her life, Ariadne has never seen Arthur stumble for words the way she does all the time. Stumble and find them and try them out, and if they don't fit, drop them and keep looking. But she understands- the pull. Unrational. Criminal.

But she's lovesick.

She can't even explain it. She doesn't want to try. Just be close and talk and **understand me **because no one else can understand a mind as muddled as hers.

She guesses that will have to do.

"I don't know either," she whispers. For some strange, wicked reason, when she whispers it makes her feel-

**-strange-**

"I think we should wake up now," she says. "They'll be wondering where we are."

**fuck them**, is what she's actually thinking, but no. Not the Point Man.

but-

she kisses him right before the dream ends.

**A/N: Again, sorry for the short chapters, but life is hectic. Reveiw! Review!**


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